


Slippery

by StarStealer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Case of The Slipperies?, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Canon Compliant, Dick Genius, Elevator Sex, Episode s2e05, Eye of the Storm, Fight Sex, Hand Jobs, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, One Shot, POV Keith (Voltron), Smut, Trapped In Elevator, Voltron: Episode 16, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarStealer/pseuds/StarStealer
Summary: When Keith is trapped in an elevator with Lance, he can't let him get the "upper hand."





	Slippery

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during S2E05 "Eye of the Storm."

___________________________________________________________

What do you believe matters more?

Initiative?

Or intent?

Sure, Lance was _in_ the elevator first. Technically.

Initiative.

But did he actually want (read: _need_ ) to swim as much as Keith did? No. No he did not.

Intent.

 

Keith was finally getting a quiet moment alone. He’d intended to fix his head. A few laps in the cool water and he’d be right as rain. Down time was important. Being at peak mental condition was essential. No screwing around.

Lance would likely goof off in the shallow end, splash around on a pool noodle, and waste a bunch of ship resources ordering stupid tropical drinks while he flexed his scrawny frame in the nearest reflective surface.

Honestly, if Keith hadn’t been so tired and distracted, he wouldn’t have been walking with his head down, towel obscuring his vision. He might have noticed Lance was already _on his way_ to the pool and altered his plan. But he was caught off guard by:

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

It was only then he looked up and saw a perturbed Lance in the elevator.

“Allura said there’s a pool,” Keith said coolly. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

He stepped in. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Lance sighed. “Same thing.”

 

It was too late to back down now. They’d both staked a claim. So he let the doors close.

“Look,” Keith said as they sped off. “You stay on one side of the pool and I’ll stay on the other. And we’ll be far, far away from each other— Very. Far. Away.”

Suddenly the elevator rumbled to a halt, Keith grunted and looked up. The lights flicked off plunging them both into darkness.

“Uhhhhhh,” said Lance.

They grumbled simultaneously.

 

After a moment, the emergency lights warmed up—a dim cast that bathed the compartment in a blue glow.

The elevator wasn’t moving and neither was the air. It was getting muggy.

Keith started to sweat. He dabbed himself with the towel around his neck and under his pits. He wished he’d brought a T-shirt. He could dimly make out sweat starting to bead on Lance’s chest too, roll down the chasm of his ribs to the jut of his hips below. The guy was built like a weasel.

Lance mopped his brow with his towel and sighed theatrically, almost, Keith felt, in his direction.

“I want you to know,” Keith said, “this is _your_ fault. _Not_ mine.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“Something always goes wrong when you’re around.”

“Ha!” Lance laughed, pivoted on a heel and lunged at Keith.

 

Keith was prepared for the attack, but in his fatigue he’d miscalculated. Instead of having to block the punch he knew was coming, Lance had somehow gotten on Keith’s inside, lips now unexpectedly pressed to his.

Soft, urgent. He tasted of peppermint and smelled of fresh sweat and was that—citrus water? Vain bastard.  

Keith clenched and unclenched his fist several times, perplexed. His arm went slack. For once the guy had genuinely surprised him.

Lance broke free. A searching look, scanning Keith’s face in the gloom. An unreadable expression.

“Why—why’d you do that?”

“You—looked like you needed a kiss,” Lance said with sudden bravado.  

“When do I ever look like I need _anything_ , idiot?”

“Most of the time, _idiot._ ”

 

Lance was unbearably smug. He thought he’d won something. Rattled Keith’s unrattlable cage and he knew it.

“Oh yeah, well—”

Keith lunged back, meant to deliver a head-butt or something else cool but at the last minute feigned and kissed Lance hard, biting his lower lip, pinning him to the metal wall. A small noise escaped Lance’s mouth. A sigh. A moan? Lance’s hands slipped around Keith’s waist, warm, hungry, damp with perspiration. Ha, got ‘em.

The delicious pleasure of ripping his body away to watch Lance’s unconscious reach for him, still panting. Looking unfulfilled and interrupted.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Keith said and wiped his mouth.

“There’s nothing about you I _like_ ,” Lance said.

“Nothing?” Keith smirked. He pulled off his towel and snapped Lance with it.

“No,” Lance blocked the towel with a swat. “I’m just frustrated.”

“Just ‘frustrated,’ huh? Are you that much of a horndog?”

“I meant frustrated _at the situation,_ dumbass. It’s hot. We’re all tired. The ship’s not working and we’re stuck in an elevator. And, what, the great Keith doesn’t ever get horny?”

“I take care of myself”

“I’ll bet you do.”

 

Lance advanced again, thrust a preposterously non-threatening arm out to Keith’s side, backing him to the wall. Pressed himself against Keith, breathing heavy.

So, Lance was taller; he was lanky. Did he really think he could win this fight?

Lance pressed his pelvis firm to Keith’s. He was hard— _of course_ —and as he moved ever so slightly against Keith, Keith felt himself engorge. Blame friction.

“It doesn’t feel like you’ve been taking care of yourself that well,” Lance said.

“Well, if you’re such a _dick genius_ , you do it.”

“Maybe I will!” snapped Lance.

Lance tugged at Keith’s drawstring and unceremoniously stuffed a hand into Keith’s trunks.

The sudden shock made Keith almost drop his composure. Almost. Instead he met Lance’s gaze, clear eyed, emotionless.

That warm, damp hand grasping him felt— difficult to resist. The assuredness of the grip. And the nasty smirk on Lance’s dumb face wasn’t a halfway bad visual.

 

But he couldn’t give Lance the satisfaction.

 

Lance’s fist started to work him up and down. Of course Lance was a jerk-off expert. From a total jerk-off, you’d expect no less.  But Keith refused to let him know how it felt. Lance really couldn’t think he had the upper hand, as it were.

“Two can play this stupid game,” Keith said.

He yanked at the front of Lance’s drawstring shorts and stuck his own hand down. Lance’s pubes had been ridiculously trimmed, that much was certain, and he was hard. Uncut and unbelievably warm in the sultry heat.

Lance let out a slow moan. Knocked his forehead against Keith’s damp shoulder. He was so bad at this game.

“You really are annoying,” said Keith, but it was muffled by Lance, half-lided and lust-drunk, stuffing his tongue in Keith’s mouth.

Okay, as irritating as that was, Lance was a surprisingly good kisser—he’d probably spent hours practicing on the back of his hand. Keith kissed back, maybe a little too eagerly, but it’d been a weird day and he needed SOME kind of stress relief.

 

Lance pulled away from the kiss declaring, “You clearly loved that.” He arched a cocky eyebrow.

Keith was speechless.

“Huh,” Lance added, “I’d kiss you more often if it would shut you up like this.”

“Shut _me_ up,” said Keith, snapping back to reality and tugging harder on Lance. “I’m not the one who talks too muuhhhhhhhhhh,” Keith forgot his words as Lance’s stroke intensified.

 

Keith had to show him who was boss. He tightened his grip. He had to get serious if he wanted to masturbate this lunatic into submission.

“Ha! You think you can make me come just like that?” said Lance, and Keith felt Lance’s sweat drenched dick push through his grip, excitedly helping.

“Yeah,” said Keith. “I bet I can make you come before you make _me_ come.”

“Never gonna happen, dude. I’m never gonna come.”

 

The absolute ludicrousity of this idiot. Keith knew for a fact you could not jerk-off indefinitely before “something” happened. And Lance was obviously close to that something.

Keith forcefully pushed Lance back to his side of the elevator, jerking as he went. Lance rested his lanky frame, sticky with perspiration, against the wall, enjoying himself.

Lance really was too much. He needed to be dropped down a peg or two. So Keith bit his jaw. That only made him stroke Keith harder and grind himself into Keith’s hand. What would get him to learn? A tongue to the Adam’s apple? Yanking hard on a nipple? That only seemed to encourage Lance further.

And then, out of nowhere, Lance whispered, “I bet I’d come a lot faster if I was inside you.”

“Ha!” said Keith, “I love how you think you’d be inside _me_ when _everyone knows_ I’d be inside _you._ ”

“Everyone knows!? Fat chance.”

Lance hooked his free hand around the small of Keith’s back, pulled him in close. His thumb hitched into the top of Keith’s trunks, slid them down until Keith’s ass and junk had popped out. So Keith retaliated and vengefully pushed Lance’s down as well, exposing them both to the humid air.

With both their members conveniently hanging out, Lance pressed his against Keith’s, letting sweat and friction work them together.

Keith grabbed Lance’s ass in retaliation. Pressing fingernails into the soft flesh. Not much meat on him, but that wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the thing. 

 

Whatever Lance’s intent, Keith would show the initiative. Keith slid his finger in.

“Don’t forget who’s in who,” Keith said.

“It’s _whom_ , dumbass,” said Lance and promptly lost himself to a fit of moaning at the stimulation back and front. 

“Your dumb ass seems to like this.” Keith sped up and Lance rutted harder.

“Two can play this game, asshole.”

 

Speaking of assholes, Lance had the nerve to slip his lanky finger down Keith’s crack, tease it around the entrance and after way not enough build up, proceed to penetrate him.

Sweat betrayed Keith. It was easier for Lance to push inside him than he’d have believed. He meant to say something along the lines of ‘get that twig you call a finger the hell outta my ass,' but it came out like, “fuuu—more.”

Everything intensified.

 

“What am I saying,” said Keith “you’re too tight to even fuck.”

“You’re tight as hell too,” said Lance. “Bet you’re a virgin.”

“You’re obviously a virgin, virgin.”

“Am I still a virgin if I make you come from fingering you?” Lance snarked.

“Shut up.”

 

Lance stuck his tongue in Keith’s ear.

“Don’t forget who’s in charge, huh,” Keith managed.

“I kissed you first, remember?” Lance whispered.

Lance with the old initiative. But who’d wanted it more?

Keith hid some intentions— even from himself.  

 

Keith found Lance’s mouth as their bellies glued together with perspiration and pre-cum in a deliciously wet slide.

Had they gone mad? Had they both caught a case of Coran’s Slipperies?  Either way, it might be worth it.

The heat, the sweat, the press of flesh, tongue’s thrashing and twisting, fingers working and the wet friction between them. It all became too much. They came within seconds, leaning heavy on the other. In the dim blue light, it was mighty hard to tell who’d arrived first, their fluids inexorably mingled.

Both panting, a long, languid kiss ensued, and the slow grind continued until they’d deflated against each other.

Suddenly, they were plunged into darkness as the emergency bulbs flicked off and the mains snapped on.

 

Under the bright lights, Keith blinked at Lance awkwardly. Trunks slipped to mid-thigh, both were covered in each other’s come and sweat and still with a finger up each other’s ass.

It’d all seemed like such a good idea. They couldn’t let the other win. Now the full weight of their mutual stupidity hit them.

Keith and Lance appeared to be in a stalemate but wordlessly disengaged fingers at the same time. They retrieved their towels, not looking at each other, and wiped thoroughly before quietly pulling up their trunks. 

 

The elevator still hadn’t moved.

“We should— probably try to get out of here, huh?” Keith said.

“You said it out loud, but I thought it first,” said Lance. 

“Once we get out of the top hatch, we’ll have to find a way to shimmy up the shaft. It’ll take teamwork.”

“Deal,” Lance said. “But the last one to make it to the pool has to suck the other one off.”

“Deal,” Keith said. “But I won’t enjoy winning, just know that.”

“Me neither,” Lance said. “But it’s the principle that counts.”

 

He meant intent. Whatever, next time, Keith would have to take the initiative. 

 

 


End file.
